From a Beetles' Eyes
by slurpee127
Summary: Harry's letters are worrying. There is something wrong with him, but he won't let anyone know what that something is. How can Ron and Hermione help their friend, when he doesn't even accept he needs help? Fic not for the faint of heart. Warnings: abuse, self-harm, implied non con. Takes place after GoF. This isn't a light-hearted fic. Readers be warned. Slightly OOC characters.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter in any way, shape or form (unfortunately).

AN: I came up with this story while not paying attention in class one day. It was meant just to be a one-shot, but I couldn't figure out how to end it quick enough. So it became a multi-chapter story. Trust me when I say, I'm not actually as depressing as this story will be, in real life. I'm a rather happy person.

WARNINGS: Implied non-con, and self-harm. I don't mean to offend anyone in the publishing of this story. It is just a story, so I apologize if I insult anyone. And remember, DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ.

* * *

It was a bright summers' day in Ottery St. Catchpole; not a cloud in the sky. Birds were chipping happily to one another, the shop owners were smiling at all who walked close enough to their window of goods to show off, and there was laughter drifting down the street.

Some miles away from this happy little town, stood an odd looking building. If anyone decided to wander down this far from Main Street, they could swear it would collapse any moment. Luckily enough for the residents of this home, no one ever came this far from town.

A family of read-heads lived in this decrepit place, and were the happiest they could be on this morning. A few of them were in what seemed to be a overgrown garden, picking up and brutally chucking small, lumpy, grey creatures over the old fence and into the field beyond. Laughter was flitting along the wind from their direction. From the main door, delicious aromas floated along, bringing with it the faintest tingle of radio music.

A portly woman, also with red hair and kind features appeared outside.

"Lunch time, everyone!"

The children stopped their assault on the creatures, and moved to the door, smiles still in place on their faces. As they filed in, the woman with red hair gave a critical eye to their dirty hands and sweaty faces.

"Where's your father?"

"He's in the shed, working on some muggle contraption." A girl answered quickly, wiping her hands on her jeans.

"Thank you Ginny, dear." She said kindly, before turning to the others. "Now go wash up while I go get him."

The matron turned to a rickety old shed, just as a tall, slightly balding man, also with red hair, stepped out. He was pointing a stick of wood at a floating square of dull silver, examining it.

"Arthur, it's time for dinner. Put your silly thing away." Molly said sternly, giving her husband a 'no nonsense' look.

He jumped, surprised, and turned to face his wife, the box still floating in the air besides him.

"Alright dear, I'll be in in a moment." He said sheepishly, sending a disappointed glance toward in latest muggle 'toy'.

She planted her feet, and folded her arms. Arthur took the hint, and quickly caught the object out of the air, and stored it in the shed. Molly smiled at her husband as he walked over to her, and placed a friendly kiss on her cheek.

Inside the house, Arthur sat down, while Molly noticed two notably empty seats.

"Ginny, have you seen Hermione and Ron?"

"They were upstairs worrying over a letter like crazy, last I checked." She replied swiftly, impatiently waiting for dinner to start. Quidditich took a lot out of a girl, after all.

"We'll start in a minute, dear. I'll just go fetch them."

* * *

Ron clutched the last letter he received from Harry, barely seeing the room he was in or the person who was with him. There was a dull, angry roar in his ears. He could not BELIEVE this! Harry had point blank refused to come to the Burrow for the rest of the summer! _Again_!

He was just about to burst, venting his anger at any who crossed his path, when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Give it up, Ron." Hermione said softly to him. "Shouting won't get anything done. He just needs time to think..."

"Think! He's been 'thinking' this whole goddamned summer!" Ron exclaimed angrily, crumbling up the letter in one hand, and pounding the other on his orange, poster covered wall, knocking a few down. Hermione walked over, and hugged him suddenly and tightly.

"I know it's hard with the war and all Ron, but we have to give him his space. You know how he is when he's hurting. He saw Cedric murdered less than two weeks ago. This is his way of coping…" She stated determinedly, but ended softly, as if doubting her own words.

"I don't care Hermione! No matter what he went through, he wouldn't _act like this_! You saw what the letter said! There's something going on with him! He would _never_ willingly stay with those muggles!" He shouted furiously, with equal amount's of worry and fear in his voice. "We have to find out what's going on with him."

"I know." Hermione whispered, her voice thick with worry. "We have to think of something." She spoke almost to soft to hear.

Ron, turning to face her, was upset to see tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Lets start finding a way." He stated with forced bravado, trying to cheer Hermione up. It seemed to work, seeing as he was granted a watery smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. They both jumped when Mrs. Weasley shouted up the stairs;

"RONALD! HERMIONE! DINNERS READY"

They shared an amused glance, and headed down the stairs.

* * *

AN: Please Review, cause I could always use feedback. Unless you're flamers. At lease make them polite in your insulting me.


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter in any way, shape or form (unfortunately).

AN: This is more build-up. We'll encounter Harry in the next chapter. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

A week later, and almost half of that number of sleepless nights filled with brainstorming, they finally believed that they had an idea of a way to make sure Harry was okay without giving him the chance to deny whatever was happening to him; They were going to spy.

Once Hermione was convinced to ignore the immoral aspect of the plan, she dived right into whatever books she deemed necessary. There were books about secrecy, about deceit, about disguise, and several about healing.

"Just a precaution" She would reply whenever Ron asked her about those ones. He knew what she meant.

It took around four days more of diving headfirst into books before they found something even remotely helpful. It was hidden in the last chapter of a book Hermione had owl-ordered several days earlier, in a section about inanimate object glamours.

Everyone in the Burrow noticed how withdrawn the duo had become. They knew that they were worrying over Harry. They were as well, especially Molly and Ginny. Molly tried sending him packages of food, which, much to her alarm, were returned unopened. Although they all had a small, polite note attached to the top, thanking her for her effort, but it was unnecessary. She didn't want to worry the kids any more than normal, so she didn't tell anyone of her failed efforts besides Arthur.

Finally, they had their invention.

To everyone else, it looked like a couple of normal beetles. But to Ron and Hermione, it was a pair of small, royal blue boxes on wheels charmed to roll over any surface; walls and ceiling included. The first box would find the spot with the greatest vantage point, and had a little glass semicircle attached to the side that would capture what was happening in a room, and through a complex little bit of magic that they had convinced Fred and George to cast, would projected by the second little box.

Overall, they were very proud of themselves. To test whether or not it worked properly, they proceeded to spy on random members of the Burrow, much against Hermione's will. She claimed to do so would be rude. He countered that Harry's safety was more important than privacy. The twins found it a great joke.

They were just waiting for Harry's next letter, so they could give the 'beetle' to Hedwig for her master.

It was another week before she arrived. In that time, their worry grew. His letter did nothing to help. Harry had once again flat out refused to visit the Burrow, and shot down their worries that anything was wrong with him, saying that he 'needed a little more time alone, he wanted to spend time with his family, he'd promised he'd help them throw a dinner party…' The list went on. The letter was almost exactly the same as the previous ones. But this time, there were a few flecks of something reddish-brown and dried onto one corner of the parchment.

They tried not to think of what that could be.

The letter was kept to a bare minimum; begging him to accept their invitation, asking what was wrong, and a not-so-subtle threat to come get. They hoped it wouldn't be too suspicious.

"Will it work?" Ron asked quietly from his bed, as he watched hermione tie the letter carefully to Hedwigs leg.

Hermione shot him a glance, then turned back to make sure the 'beetle' would fall out of the letter in a way that wasn't noticeable when opened.

"Of course it will. We'll finally be able to help him now." Hermione stated as-a-matter-of-factly, though there was a bit of wavering in her voice.

While Ron contemplated this, she turned back to Hedwig and opened the window for her, allowing her to fly away.

"Hermione," Ron started quietly, "I'm really scared for him. We always knew his home life isn't the best. Hell, anyone can see that! The way he can hardly eat at the Welcoming Feast every year, and the glamours for the first few weeks back. But he's never, _not once_, not used any opportunity he could to get out of there." He paused for a second, gathering his thoughts.

"Ron-" Hermione started.

"What I'm trying to say," He interrupted, "is that it might be worse than we think it is. He doesn't want us to see him for a reason. Knowing him, how well he handles pain, Im saying that maybe we should've thought this out more. I think we need to tell someone. Anyone. As long as they could do something to help him." He finished rather lamely, worry etched on his features.

"Ron," Hermione slowly began again, "who would believe us?"

* * *

AN: Alright people! Its starting to get somewhere! I hope you enjoyed this, and thanks to those of you who reviewed; it was much appreciated :)

Remember to review with any thoughts, complaints, or suggestions you may have. I've already gotten quite a bit of this written out, but ill consider new suggestions.

Peace out!


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter in any way, shape or form (unfortunately). I really wish I did. I'd make him evil.

AN: SO! We've finally encountered Harry! I warn you now, there are mentions of serious physical abuse, and non-con. I'm warning you, so you have the chance to go and read something happy instead.

...still here? Okay, here's the next chapter for you all. Enjoy.

* * *

Harry was huddled in a corner of his dark room. The clock next to his ratty bed displayed glowing red numbers, illuminating the side of his face. 3:13 am. He needed to get into bed, but he just couldn't get his brain to respond.

The letter he just received from the Burrow, carefully taken in through the window bars from Hedwig, was in a tight ball thrown haphazardly across the room. A poor attempt to hit the overflowing trash bin. Hermione had threatened that they would come get him whether or not he wanted them too. He couldn't let them get near him. He couldn't face them. They didn't need to worry about him. He didn't deserve such friends.

'Just one month more' his mind said, though he crushed the thought before it could root. After all, he convinced Cedric to share the cup with him. It was his fault he died. He deserved this punishment.

He didn't know how long he sat there, his mind running in circles. Even if he wanted to, he didn't think he could move. His uncles last "visit" had left him slightly worse for wear.

He was… 'sticky', he thought. The last time he had a shower escaped him. Probably when he was still at Hogwarts. As soon as he had returned to Privet Drive with the Dursleys', his uncle had thrown him into his small bedroom, and left him alone.

That didn't last very long.

The same night, Petunia and Dudley had gone out to see a movie, leaving Harry alone with Vernon. This had happened multiple times in the past. He thought it was because Petunia somehow knew when her husband was feeling particularly violent, so she'd get herself and son out of the line of fire. Some aunt she was.

He should've known it would happen though. The first night after Hogwarts was always the worst. He should've seen it coming.

When he was still small, and magic was still just a fairy tale, he'd only suffered beatings when his uncle was in a foul mood. Or if he was in the room when he shouldn't have been. Or when he did something "freaky". Or when he didn't cook their meals the way he liked it. Or when…

No! He didn't wan't to think about that. He didn't need to. He was worrying about enough at the moment.

Unbidden, memories continued to flow through his minds' eye:

Four- His first beating after he had asked about his parents.

Seven- He had gotten a higher grade than Dudley on a Math quiz. That was the first time the belt had been used. He still had a few scars from that.

Ten- Right after the first, of the many, Hogwarts letter had arrived. He got a few cracked ribs, and didn't wake up till the morning.

Eleven- He had just arrived for the summer from Hogwarts. Vernon had waited for his wife and son had been out before seeking out Harry. That was the first time he'd been raped.

That first time still gave him nightmares. Not that the other times didn't; he had plenty of nightmares about every incident, but he'd only been eleven. That was bound to traumatize any one that age. Back then, he hadn't deserved it.

He had scars everywhere, not that he'd let anyone see them. No one even had an inkling about what had been happening to him. He could've been an actor.

Harry snorted at the thought.

With that still lingering in his mind, he felt exhaustion creep into him. Just before he allowed sleep to claim him, he whispered "Happy Birthday, Harry", into the darkness. Slumping onto the floor in his corner, memories wandered into his subconscious, removing any chance he had for a peaceful sleep.

He never noticed the small black beetle sitting on top of his clock, watching him intently.

* * *

Ron and Hermione were worried and scared.

Their bug had arrived, and they had started up the second half of the device, only to watch Harry sit in a corner, staring into space for three hours strait.

It had been dark in his room, and any light that would've come in from the lamp post outside the window had been deterred by the shutters and bars, which had been re-installed from when Ron and his brothers pulled them out.

It was hard to tell, but Hermione thought she could make out a splotch of dark color making its way across his neck and cheek. Ron tried not to see it. He seemed almost frantic in his denial it was there. She thought that was because he didn't _want_ for it to be there.

She wanted Harry out of there. Hell, everyone wanted Harry out of there, but he kept refusing.

Almost everyone else had given up trying to convince him to leave though, thinking that he just needed time to come to terms with what had happened. Besides her and Ron, only Mrs. Weasley and Remus expressed any concern over him.

With low hopes, Ron stood up and turned the device off, while Hermione silently left for the room she shared with Ginny.

Sleep wouldn't come.

* * *

AN: I really hope you enjoy this. I warned you in the description that this would be a rather depressing fic. Please review! Any suggestions would be welcomed.

Also, if anyone is interested in being a Beta, contact me, cause I'm bound to make mistakes somewhere, and I'm sure i've already missed something.


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter in any way, shape or form (unfortunately).

AN: Sorry if it's been a while, I was out of state for a while visiting some old friends up in Washington. Hope this chapter is good, I'll have another up soon!

WARNINGS: This chapter may be a little disturbing, so be warned. I'm not warning you when that is, cause it's rather small.

* * *

_Harry was almost happy._

_It was the first time since he caused Cedric to die. He was running toward the lake at Hogwarts, though it didn't feel to him like running; more like gliding. He didn't find anything disturbing with that._

_He heard carefree laughter from either side of him. He turned to look, a slow and lazy smile on his face. His friends were running with him. They looked happier than he could remember._

_They seemed slightly blurred on the edges. _

_Smiling, the three of them continued to move toward the shore of the lake. They stopped on vibrant green grass that moved as water ripples, and turned to look at each other._

_Green eyes first met blue, then brown; warmth visible in their depths._

_Then suddenly, they were gone._

_A feeling of wrongness crept over him. He glanced around cautiously._

_The grass was slowly dying, becoming brown and brittle. The lake started churning, the clear water developed a murky look, and the crystal blue sky started to darken with black storm clouds._

_Foreboding wormed its way into him. Turning around, he spotted a figure a few yards away from him._

_As he reached the figure, it too, disappeared._

_"RON! HERMIONE! Where are you!"He shouted, panicking now._

_"We're right here Harry." A soft voice whispered menacingly into his ear._

_Twisting around, he was faced with Cedric Diggory._

_He felt nauseous. Cedric was here, and glaring at him with more hate than he could remember ever seeing on his face._

_"Cedric—" Harry choked out._

_"You let me die. I was innocent, and you made me take the cup with you. How could you?" He growled out in a low voice._

_"Cedric… Please, I'm so sorr—"_

_"It's all your fault! You were supposed to die, and I was supposed to live! You were marked for death since infancy. Why should I have died?" Interrupted Cedric, rage growing._

_"Please," gulped out Harry, "Please, I didn't mean for you to—"_

_Before he could finish, his appearance started to change. Cedric shot up in height, golden hair melted away 'til he was bald, light brown eye deepened in color until they were a fiercely glowing red._

_Soon, where Cedric once stood, now stood the Dark Lord._

_The Dark Lord raised his hand, and Harry was forced to his knees, unable to move. Harry's eyes were locked onto the blood red of his foes'._

_Voldemort drew closer, and placed his outstretched hand on Harry's neck, the other one following soon after._

_A high, cold, maniacal laugh pierced the heavy silence. It seemed to last for ages, pulling forward every drop of Harrys' fear front and center._

_Abruptly, he stopped laughing._

_"I must thank you for this body. I could not have done it without you." He murmured slowly, venom dripping from his voice._

_Harrys' stomach dropped. He felt cold. His head swam._

_The hands still on his neck started squeezing. The tighter they became, the more the Dark Lord changed. He became shorter; neat black hair grew on his head, along with a massive mustache below his nose. He gained a great deal of weight as well._

_Soon enough, it was his uncle slowly choking him to death with an evil leer on his face._

_"Time to earn your room and board boy!" Vernon's voice roared in the space around them like thunder._

Harry woke with a start, panting heavily. The room seemed to go from hot, to cool, and to hot again. Sweat poured off of him. 'It was just a dream', he thought with a desperate relief. 'Just a dream'. His breathing slowing down, he fell back onto the bed, blankets pushed down to the end. Lying there, he turned to look at the clock. '5:44'. It was still dark. 'Everyone is probably still asleep. Maybe I could sneak a shower'. His uncle hadn't let him out of his room to shower once since his return to Privet Drive. 'I'll have to be quiet', he thought sullenly, 'if he catches me…'

Stopping that thought dead in its tracks, he went to the linen cupboard and and grabbed the oldest rattiest one, the one that had been his since he was old enough to be in the bathroom by himself.

As quietly as he could, he made his way to the bathroom door. Just as his hand was on the doorknob, he stopped. 'There's someone in there' he thought with dread. Against his better judgment, against all reason, he stayed near the door trying to figure out who it was. At first, he couldn't tell, but then he heard a deep grunting, followed the tell tale _slap slap slap _on skin on skin.

Harry, as quietly as he could, bolted from the door and back into the relative safefy of his room.

Breathless, he stuffed his fist in his mouth to keep his breathing quiet. He leaned against the now closed door, and slowly slid to the floor, towel falling next to him. 'If he'd heard me… If he'd seen me… What if he's coming here next!' He shakily pressed his ear to the door and listened. Nothing. Silence.

A breath of relief quietly escaped him, and he wiped at tears he hadn't noticed were falling down his face.

Thoughts zoomed though his mind at breakneck speed. He never notices the little beetle that was watching him intently.

* * *

On a screen at the Burrow, he image of Harry Potter was seen. The image looked worse for ware. At the moment, he was sitting against his door as if he was exhausted. Tears streaming down his cheeks, seemingly not being noticed. His eyes though, looked far away, as if he was looking at something outside his window, and whatever he saw was horrifying.

A brunette and a redhead had watched the screen intently. They couldn't sleep, sick with worry over their friend. It was frightening when Harry had started thrashing in his sleep. Ron and Hermione had watched avidly, trying to figure out what he was dreaming of. Even being his best friends', they had no idea what he could be seeing. He had muttered in his sleep, "Please... please, I didn't mean for you to..."

Harry's cracked voice broke Hermione's heart, and terrified Ron. What had made Harry sound this way?

Harry sounded broken.

When they Harry had woken up, they both let out a sigh of relief. Their relief quickly turned to curiosity. 'Why is Harry getting up this early?' Ron thought to himself, watching Harry leave the room.

Not more than a minute had passed before he was rushing into his room again, terrified. Fist in his mouth, trying to stay as quiet as possible. Whatever fear had left Ron since Harry woke up, returned again full force as he watched his best friend slide to the ground. That word came to his mind again.

Broken.

Harry was broken.


	5. Chapter 5

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter in any way, shape or form (unfortunately).

AN: Sorry for the wait people. My family enlisted my help with packing up the house for the latest move we're making. It's tiring work, and we're not even close to being finished. And it doesn't help that since I wrote down a lot of this on paper before I even considered putting it on here, there are a lot of inconsistencies, that when I fix, cause other mess-ups to show, and so now I'm writing pretty much as I go.

I couldn't make this chapter work properly. Probably due to lack of correct rest, lack of water intake, and what I mentioned above. So here it is, enjoy :)

* * *

For the third day in a row, Ron wished both that Harry would write for help, and that he wouldn't only be in his room at ungodly hours of the morning. Oh, how Ron wished they could go rescue him! But he and Hermione wouldn't be able to pull it off, without everyone just sending Harry strait back to that Hell. They couldn't even go and get him _with _permission! Harry just didn't want help, and not even Hermione could convince the Order without proof. Ron was desperate for any way to have Harry back with his _real_ family.

Ron's eyes were glazed, pointed in the general direction of the screen where their friend had collapsed to the ground.

Hermione, however, was closely observing Harrys' bedroom, illuminated by the light post outside his window, and the faintly illuminating digital clock by his bed, stating it was 4:45 am. The closer she looked, the more she wished she hadn't.

From what visible, she could make out what they'd overlooked when their beetle had first arrived.

It was in a state of disorder, to say the least.

Under the window, was a small dingy bed, with the headboard and side pushed up against its respective walls of the corner. The wooden frame looked scratched on the edges and top. The mattress, she noticed, was a moldy looking grey. The pillow seemed nothing more than a thin piece of fabric, while the blanket was threadbare and depressing. There were some looking odd brown splotches on it.

There was a shabby, old wooden desk in another corner, across from the end of the bed. It was bare except for the empty owl cage. The floor of his room was littered with trash; old broken toys, balled up newspapers, an old, holey grey sock missing its partner.

Hermione noted that his trunk was nowhere in sight, the same as any of his schoolbooks or robes.

They must've been sitting in Ron's room, observing Harry longer than they thought, because the clock next to his bed suddenly displayed the time 5:30.

Glancing at Ron to determine how he was, only to find him staring into space, lost in thoughts, she turned her attention to Harry himself, as he lay on his bed staring up. On this morning, he was paler than she'd seen him so far. Dark bruises under his eyes proved what she already knew; that Harry wasn't sleeping. His already overlarge clothes positively hung off his thin frame, as they would hang on a scarecrow. His face was gaunt, as though he hadn't had a proper meal in a week or two.

Though knowing the Dursleys, that was probably the case.

As frightening his whole image was to Hermione, the worst part was his eyes. They had sunk into his face, and seemed to have darkened considerably from the last time they'd seen him. Whereas before they were a bright, sparkling emerald, now they were nearly black, and empty. He just lay there, staring at the ceiling, unblinkingly.

With a weight seemingly on her chest, she silently begged Harry to do something. _Anything. _Even if it was to start weeping. Anything was better than this lack of life, this _acceptance,_ her friend displayed.

* * *

Ron emerged from his thoughts that had been driving him in circles, infuriating him more and more.

He had considered asking for help: No one would believe them.

He had considered showing them evidence: They would think he and Hermione were over-reacting.

He considered going and getting Harry himself: The Order would send him back, and remove any other chance to get him out alone.

He considered sending an illegal portkey: Same problem.

Calling the Aurors: He'd still go back.

Calling the muggle please-men: Same problem.

No matter what he thought of, he always ended up on the same issue.

It was enough to give him a headache. A very bad headache.

He turned to Hermione to ask her what they should do, but the words died in his throat. She looked so stricken. Panicking slightly, he snapped his head back to the screen, and sought what it was that hurt her so.

It didn't take long for him to notice Harry.

Physically, he wasn't worse than the previous few days, but his eyes had lost something. There was something missing in those depths. Searching for a few moments, he found what it was. His fight. His passion. His _everything._ It was missing.

* * *

The pale sunlight was making its appearance on his wall, so apparently, time was still passing. It didn't feel like it. 'It must be time to make their breakfast' Harry vaguely thought. He slowly turned his eyes to the clock, reading '6:11'. He was late.

As though Vernon could read his mind, the door slammed open, banging into the wall with a clatter. He shot up in his bed, and was on his feet in less than a second, and kept his eyes to the floor.

"BOY!" His uncle roared, "Get your lazy arse downstairs this_ fucking_ minute! I'm going to be _late_ because of you, _freak_!" His face was a nasty shade of purple at this point.

Harry knew better that to say anything, other than a murmured "Yes, Uncle" and started to move toward the door.

As he was passing Vernon, a meaty hand grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled Harry to face him. Terror rose in his stomach at the lecherous look in his eye.

"You'll make up for it tonight, boy." He whispered maliciously. Whatever blood was in his face drained away.

He was viscously shoved in the side, throwing him into the call, and causing pain to flare up from his cracked rib. He stayed silent, not even a whimper left him.

"Yes, Uncle." He managed in a hitched sort of voice. His uncle sent him one last disturbing look, and left. He could hear his thundering footsteps all the way down to the parlor.

Slowly, he pushed himself off the wall, and made his slightly painful way down the stairs into the kitchen.

* * *

Ron and Hermione sat in shocked silence at what they had just witnessed.

Harry's uncle treated him like a bag of shit! And the way he had just _taken it_! How could this have happened? Where did the strong, stubborn Harry go!

Wordlessly, they watched as the spy followed it's programming, and followed Harry a minute or two after he had left, to find the best vantage point. It had not yet reached the kitchen when there was a crash.

* * *

AN: Here it is! The long anticipated chapter! I promise Remus will make an appearance soon. Not sure when, but soon enough.

If you love it, let me know. If you hate it, let me know. If you see anything that doesn't make sense or fit into the plot so far, DEFINITELY let me know, so I can fix it ASAP. Review everyone!


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